


I want you so much (but I hate your guts)

by muchlessvermillion



Series: pitch like coal and messy too [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Biting, Blood, Bulges and Nooks, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Dirty Talk, F/F, F/M, Fingering, Mild Language, Scratching, Sexual Content, Xenobiology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 04:02:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2637248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muchlessvermillion/pseuds/muchlessvermillion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the things that happened Afterward, when the universe opened up and spat them all out, an unruly congregation of dead children and those that had killed them, it was one of the weirdest:  She crooned unholy, filthy threats in broodfester tongue lullabies and he smiled his enigmatic, closed-mouth smile and said nothing, as if the stitches that had held his lips shut hadn't popped out, one by one, when they were all revived and made whole again. </p><p> </p><p>Rose and Kurloz are gently, torturously pitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I want you so much (but I hate your guts)

Of all the things that happened Afterward, when the universe opened up and spat them all out, an unruly congregation of dead children and those that had killed them, it was one of the weirdest: 

She crooned unholy, filthy threats in broodfester tongue lullabies and he smiled his enigmatic, closed-mouth smile and said nothing, as if the stitches that had held his lips shut hadn't popped out, one by one, when they were all revived and made whole again. 

(Shortly after they were all reborn, he vanished for a while, and came back with his mouth again full of wiry black thread, making his friends wonder if maybe they had been wrong all along- Meulin's hearing was restored. If that was what he was atoning for, his penance was paid. Perhaps there were other reasons, heralded by faith most devout and the keeping of holy secrets. Rose cleaned purple off her needles and smiled a black-slicked smile to match his.)

They were pitch, but the softest, gentlest pitch anyone had seen yet, full of false smiles and unnervingly tender touches. They were black like coal dust, like the sticky aftermath of a burned out star. Alone, with their own friends, they were the same as they always were. Rose; wry, witty and warmer than expected, shockingly sly and sharp-sweet as razor wire. Kurloz; quiet like violence, grinning like the kindest death ever seen, often confusing even to those that purported to know him best. Kanaya could barely fathom it, because even when they had dabbled black her Rose was different, insincere in her dislike, faking it for the sake of seeing what it felt like, always a little pink and red beneath. 

Karkat called it a hilariously healthy kismesissitude. They were friends oftentimes, snickering behind their palms, weaving gossip and ugly stories with gruesome ends. They matched up their comrades, largely in spades, and jotted down what-ifs to see who could get both realistic and disgusting. He called her a vicious bitch and somehow it felt like a compliment, made her grin at him sharp and deadly and flick the tip of his horns with one impeccably painted nail so he could feel the vibrations all the way down his skull. 

On their blacker days together they glowed dark, made people uncomfortable being in the same room without even touching. They looked at each other like they could flay the flesh from bone without lifting a finger, and then when they did get close enough to reach, she just linked her arm in his, squeezed a tad too tight, and asked him for a walk around the gardens, imitating novels that no longer existed. She spoke with a mocking, consoling edge to her voice as if her advice to him was sincere, and he spit signs with his fingers that made Meulin's ears flush green. Sometimes they were silent for long periods of time, talking their hissing truths inside their heads, Kurloz's eyes flashing purple, Rose's knitting needles clinking faster and faster as she got more furious, until they both broke down. They either left together or were separated by others. 

In private, they carried on in whispers and languages ancient and ugly, the seething underside of magic scorching through Rose's mind and slipping off her tongue. She spoke to him about cold purple blood and guts unraveling around fingers. He called her every name he could think of with his voice loud and steady in her mind, and she laughed and choked around her breaths when they pushed together. 

They burned bright and they burned out every time, rose again from the ashes all sooty and charred. She was not as sturdy nor as strong as trolls were, so he compensated by sliding his claws against her with just enough pressure to sting, making her want the heat and the hurt and then taking it away, touching her soft enough that it bordered on an obscene pale parody, making soothing noises behind the sealed cage of his stitched up mouth. She alchemized silvery metal tips for her fingernails and raked them down his skin in great, forceful strikes, like a cat at a scratching post, scoring lines into the meat of his thighs and his ass and the long curve of his spine, pulling hard at his hair, using his horns like handles to get him to move.

He pressed reverent, necessarily chaste kisses down her legs and the curve of her ankles and her hips, teasing her with the knowledge of the fangs that lived behind the softness, which she would likely never feel. She retaliated by biting blunt human teeth over his mouth, snapping stitches and poking at the holes left behind with sloppy swipes of tongue and great smears of dark lipstick on his face and neck. She bore pinpricks, bruises, skinny red scratches, and he wore purple gashes that took ages to scab over because he picked at them, or raised bright welts from a heel or a whip. 

 

"Come on," Rose hissed, reaching behind her own head to press her thumbnail hard against his cheek, a little bloody line oozing slow from the flesh. "Come on, you're pathetic, you're not trying hard enough. Get any more pathetic and I'm going to have to flip red on you, and that'll just be disgusting, not to mention adulterous."  
_"Like you could."_ His voice in her head, no satisfying hitch of breath to indicate the way his hips were working down onto her fingers, the sloppy gush of purple from his nook. It wasn't her favorite shade, as she took great pleasure in pointing out. Too dark. Too much blue, not enough red. _"Stuck up bitch hates a motherfucker too much to keep the black out of her eyes."_  
"You realize that not only are you now speaking in the third person, you've stopped using the second person for me? But only in the second half of the sentence. Fascinating. Are these linguistic quirks a product of choice or habit?" He grunted through his teeth and twisted his hips up, pointedly lashing his bulge inside her. She arched her back up against his front, felt the curve of his rumblespheres press into her spine, the strange smooth texture of his cold skin. "That's a point." She breathed out with a conceding little grin, pushing a third finger inside him, her arm down between both sets of their spread thighs. "But we're arguing evolutionary language after. Agreed?"  
_"Agreed."_ He got a grip on her hips, pulled her down against him in a slow, circular motion, and she hissed between her teeth and used the hand she had bloodied his face with to grab a big handful of his hair and pull his face down against the curve of her neck.  
"Too bad you couldn't keep your tongue." She cooed, shoving his mouth into the skin, crooking fingers inside him with a wet sound. "If you could open your mouth you could bite me. Lick up that filthy alien blood and use it for fingerpainting." The rumble in his chest was silent, but she felt it, and her pitchy giggling let him know. The hands on her hips worked claws in, just enough, no more than she could handle. "Shame, really. Could've made you eat me out. See if you'd forgotten how to use it in all those sweeps." His bulge squirmed a little deeper and her gasp was half a snort, infuriatingly triumphant. "Worn the big black heels you like, the pumps with the sharp ends- you like those, you always like those, pressed them up against your shoulders with your face between my thighs-" She was cut off every few seconds by moaning now, and little gasps of laughter.  
_"You talk too much."_  
"One of us has to!" She exclaimed gleefully, rolling her hips down back against him. "Maybe I could get you in a pair of my panties, I'm sure I'll have some that match, something nice in black and purple or maybe white so I can see it when you make a fucking mess."  
He began really trying after that, and her thoughts dissolved, left her garbling out grimdark languages ancient and old and not meant for fucking while he signed his hatred against her thighs with his fingers until she came with a little hiccuped sob and he followed after, spurting purple against both their thighs and the floor.

"Okay, _now_ we're discussing evolutionary linguistics." She announced, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, and he grinned and gave a little fistful of her hair a reprimanding tug, and then did it anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a present for my good friend agent_florida, and also coincidentally the first fic I've ever posted on Ao3! This is actually not representative of my usual ships, but. I kind of like it. It fits pretty damn well. I hope you enjoy! Feedback is thoroughly appreciated.
> 
> Title is from the song Landfill by Daughter.


End file.
